Across The Years
by janearjafar
Summary: Petra and Rivaille have known each other for years. Heck, some may even call them soul mates! (An Attack on Titan AU)


They had met for the first time in middle school.

It had been the first day of sixth grade, and they shared the same homeroom teacher. Petra had come to school late that morning, and, open her arrival, she discovered that there was only one seat left in the entire classroom.

"Go sit next to Rivaille," she ordered, pointing to a rather sullen-looking boy who was intently staring down at his desk.

Petra nodded nervously and, with trembling limbs, she walked over to her assigned desk. The little boy, Rivaille, looked up at her as she approached, his dark eyes seeming to take in every detail of the blonde-haired girl.

Petra flinched at his cool gaze. "A-Ah, it's nice to meet you!" she stammered. "My name is Petra Ral!" She quickly extended her hand in greeting.

Rivaille glared at the hand as if it were some disgusting object. He didn't return the gesture, however, and simply dipped his head a little. "...I'm Rivaille."

"Petra, it's your turn!"

The now eighth-grader nervously stepped up to the home plate, the wooden bat shaking in her hands.

Relax, she told herself. Deep breaths...

The field day was the biggest event in the middle school ever and if Petra messed up now...then the eighth grade might lose to the seventh graders.

And that was totally unacceptable.

Petra lifted the bat and nodded slowly at the pitcher standing before her, his eyes gazing at her calmly through his mask. He finally threw the ball and...Petra missed.

The bat swung quickly, making a sshhh sound as it rended the air, but she missed the ball.

She gulped as she heard people shouting at her from the stands.

"Strike one!"

The pitcher threw again. Another miss.

"Strike two!"

Stay calm, Petra. She took another deep breath. She couldn't fail, not when so many people were counting on her.

She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched. She turned about quickly to see Rivaille standing behind her. That's right, he had batted before her...

"Listen, you just have to focus," Rivaille said. "Just don't think about the people here. You'll do fine."

Petra nodded and managed a small smile. "...Yeah! Thanks, Rivaille."

And then the third throw came.

Petra clenched her eyes shut as it came barreling towards her and it...hit!

With a gasp of joy, Petra began to rush around the bases, hardly paying attention to her surroundings. She could faintly hear the cheers and cries of the crowd, but she couldn't make out any words. The only thing she could focus on were the white bases stretched out before her, step by step by step...

And then she felt the push on her. No.

She fumbled as the fielder tagged her out, and fell ungracefully on the dirt of the baseball diamond, her knees skidding on the rough service. Cheers and jeers erupted from the stands at once as Petra felt her eyes fill with tears. She had failed...She had...

She pulled her bruised knees up to her chest and began to quietly weep upon them.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She briefly looked up at the voice to see Rivaille towering over her, concern etched across his face.

Petra nodded, her lips shaking.

"Now, that's a lie if I ever heard one," Rivaille replied, kneeling to her level. His eyes flashed as they fell upon the bruises on her knees and he shook his head. "...Come on, let's get you patched up."

"B-But, R-Rivaille, I...," Petra sobbed. "I-I let everyone d-down..."

"Don't worry about that," Rivaille said, gently patting her head. "You did very well, okay?"

He smiled and Petra found her heart that stated to beat faster.

She had failed, yes, but somehow that didn't matter as much when Rivaille praised her.

Petra liked Rivaille.

Well...she "like liked" him.

It took her until tenth grade to figure this out.

Finally, she strung together all the heartbeats that echoed through her chest when she saw him, the butterflies that would fly about in her stomach, the blushes that would cover her cheeks.

But how would she tell him that? They were close friends and...what if he didn't return her feelings? What if her confession ruined everything? No, it was better to...stay quiet.

"Hey, Petra, are you and Rivaille going out?"  
The question posed by her friend completely caught Petra off-guard. "No...we're not," she replied. "Why?"

"Well..." Her friend blushed slightly and Petra felt her stomach drop. "I have a crush on him and I was wondering if i could ask him out! I figured I was ask you, though, because you two are always together..."

Petra's lips went dry. No. No, you can't date him. No, I love him. You don't understand, I know him the most, I...

"Yes, it's fine," she lied. "Go...ask him out."

Petra raced out of the school building that day, refusing to look back even when she heard Rivaille calling out for her. She had been avoiding him all day, and she knew he was worried about her, but she couldn't...she couldn't...

"Petra!"

She abruptly stopped as a firm hand grabbed her shoulder. She shut her eyes as Rivaille turned her around so she would face him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You've been avoiding me all day! Did I...do something?"

"W-What? Oh, no, no, it's not you at all," Petra replied, slipping out of Rivaille's grasp. "It's just...it's just silly old me," she continued, flashing a small grin.

Rivaille stared at her, unamused. "Is this about that girl asking me out?"

Oh man.

Petra's cheeks turned red, but she didn't reply.

"She said she had asked you if it alright to ask me out. Is that true?" Rivaille continued.

Petra nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. "W-What did you tell her?" she asked quietly.

Rivaille was silent for a moment, his dark eyes darting about as he stared at Petra's face. Finally, he answered, "I...rejected her."

"Y-You did?" Petra squeaked. "W-Why?"

"Well, I...I like someone else," Rivaille replied, shifting awkwardly where he stood.

"Who?" Petra inquired, her face turning even redder under Rivaille's gaze.

"Let me...show you," Rivaille said gently, leaning in for a kiss.

"The High School Sweethearts."

That was the nickname Petra and Rivaille earned in training school. The two of them decided to enlist in the military after college and, due to some sort of awesome miracle, they were assigned to the same squad. Some claimed that it was because the commanders hated to separate two young lovebirds, but there was no denying the impact the two had upon each other.

Petra always managed to calm the somewhat coarse Rivaille, while Rivaille always urged Petra on and enabled her to do her best despite the harsh conditions they trained in.

And today was the day they had been training so much for.

The helicopter landed on the outskirts of the base, picking up dust as it fell to the earth. The entire unit was perfectly lined up before the vehicle, clad in their camouflage uniforms and equipped with dangerous firearms.

Petra stood behind Rivaille, her eyes firmly landed upon the helicopter. This is it, this is what they had trained for.

"You nervous?" Rivaille asked, casting a backwards glance to her.

"Yeah, a little," Petra admitted. "But...I'm ready! You helped me make sure of that! Besides, if we got each other out there there's no way we'll lose!"

Rivaille couldn't help but smile at Petra's can-do attitude. Here they were, stepping towards an entirely uncertain future, and she could still somehow find the silver lining.

"Yes, you're right," he said, quickly pecking her on her cheek. "We will survive."

The first day back from their tour was a grand occasion. Rivaille decided to treat Petra to a meal at one of her favorite restaurants, and they even dressed up to go out.

They had survived.

Yes, they were hurt (they both had the injuries to prove it), but they had survived. Together.

"This is delicious, Rivaille!" Petra exclaimed as she tasted her food. "Thank you so much for planning this!"

"Well, we both deserve it, don't you think?" Rivaille replied, studying Petra closely. She looked so beautiful today; she was clad in a lovely white dress, wore beautiful diamond earrings Rivaille had bought her for her birthday a few years back, and even her blonde hair seemed more radiant than usual.

"Yes, I think so," Petra said, grinning. "This is just wonderful."

"You like it?" Rivaille asked.

"Yes!"

"Well, then I have one more surprise for you."

Rivaille bent down on one knee.

_"Mr. Ral?"_

_"What is it?"_

_"I have a very serious question for you...You know I love your daughter very much."_

_"Yes."_

_"I wish to ask for her hand in marriage. Will you give me your blessing?"_

_"...Not yet."_

_"Sir?"_

_"As soon as I arrive home safely from your tour...Then you will have my blessing. Come home alive, Rivaille. You need to something to come back home for. I need you to survive...for my daughter."_

_"...Yes, sir."_

Needless to say, everyone was thrilled. The church was absolutely packed that day with friends from high school, and comrades from training camp. They were all abuzz with excitement; Petra and Rivaille were finally getting married!

Rivaille walked to the altar dressed in his finest suit (which Petra's father helped him pick out) and waited nervously for his bride. Yes, he was actually nervous. It was strange...He had seen the horrors of war and yet, right now, this was the most nerve wracking thing he had ever done.

The church suddenly went deathly silent as the front doors opened. The audience rose, the organ began to play...

And Rivaille had never seen such a beautiful sight in his entire life.

Petra strolled down the aisle, the total image of grace. She wore a stunning white dress that trailed behind her, and her blonde, angel-like hair was tied back in a flurry of white flowers and pearls. Rivaille could she her staring at him through the veil covering her face.

She was so beautiful.

Without knowing, Rivaille began to tear up and he hurriedly wiped his eyes.

Petra finally arrived to the altar and smiled up at Rivaille. She was blushing furiously and, at the sight, Rivaille felt his cheeks turn hot, too.

They hardly paid attention to what the priest was saying; they gazed into each other's eyes the whole time.

The apartment was nice.

Rivaille and Petra had managed to scrape together whatever money they had to rent a decent-sized apartment in the middle of the city.

Their child liked it enough; he was happy as long as he was with his parents. He had Petra's blonde locks, but Rivaille's knowing, dark eyes.

And they were happy.

No, they were more than happy.

They were ecstatic.

They had been through so much but, in the end, they had each other.

And that was more than enough.


End file.
